


After Coffee

by e_li_za



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6259228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_li_za/pseuds/e_li_za
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon is useless before he gets his morning coffee, but some asshole won’t stop playing violin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Simon was really, really tired. Today, he had broken up with his girlfriend, lost his job, and moved into his new flat, and all on a single cup of coffee. 

He should have called Penny, or cleaned up, or assembled his Ikea bed, but he didn’t. He curled up on his bare mattress, threw on a sheet, and tried to go to sleep. He was almost there, the darkness closing in, when it started. 

Some fucker started playing the violin. His first thought was, “Who plays violin at 2 in the bloody morning?” followed immediately by “Fuck, that’s pretty.” And it was. It was lilting, and beautiful, and soothing. It felt familiar, but also new, like a song you hear in a dream. He stayed up for a while, just listening, forgetting about all the bullshit of that day. And then, he was asleep. 

He dreamt about fights and screams and violin, but they were dreams, and not nightmares, which was an improvement. 

He woke up, groggy, the sun shining viciously through the windows he hadn’t bothered to cover. For a second, he panicked, thinking he had overslept. Then he remembered. He had no job to be late to. 

He lay back down, contemplating a day of naps and self-pity. But, that would also entail a lot of thinking, which Simon was not a fan of. 

So, he got up, and put on a jacket. He hadn’t bothered to change into pajamas last night. The first order of business was getting some coffee, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to survive the day without it. Just as he was about to open the door, he heard it again: the music from last night. 

It was just as beautiful, but different. It bounced and moved, changing with every second. It sounded like someone laughing with old friends. “Good Christ, does this person ever sleep?” 

He didn’t really mind though. They could play all day and night if they liked. All of a sudden, Simon felt an idiotic, insatiable, before-coffee urge to find the person playing that violin, and… and what? Compliment them? Tell them to shut the fuck up? Simon didn’t know, but he was already halfway up the stairs. Again, thinking really wasn’t his forte. 

He followed the sound of the music, up the stairs and down the hall. There were only 4 or 5 flats in the building, so it wasn’t that hard to find. He stood outside the door, a tired, pouty, and befuddled look on his face. The song was even prettier from here, and Simon could hear all the nuances of the piece. He was just about to knock on the door when… he got a text from Penny. 

Penny: You ok? 

Penny: Want 2 get coffee? 

He remembered where he was, standing outside a stranger’s door, in disheveled clothes, planning to… well, thank God for Penny. 

Simon: Yeah, i’m on my way 

He went back down the stairs, walking to the tune of the violin. He would meet that violinist one day… but after coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets his morning coffee. He his less useless.

They were sitting in the coffee shop, talking about everything, and nothing. Simon was on his 8th scone, and Penny worried he was eating his feelings. Or maybe he was just being Simon.

“So, what do you think of your new flat?” Simon stared at his scone, thoughtfully. 

“I didn’t really have time to assess it. Y’ know, it was kind of a long day.

Penny knew. She knew better than anyone. 

“There is this one thing. The tenant on the floor above me, they play the violin… at 2 in the morning” 

“Well, that sucks. Sorry Si” 

There was a pause. “It doesn’t really. Suck, I mean. It was really… nice” Simon was looking into the distance, obviously remembering the night before. There was a slight smile on his lips.

Penny paid, because she was a true gent, and offered to walk Simon home. He protested at first, but eventually gave in. She was persuasive like that. On the walk, he told her what had happened that morning. “Before you texted me, I got it in my head that I was going to find the mysterious violinist.” 

“And how did that go?” 

“Well, I didn’t go through with it, obviously. I do have some sense” 

“Why not?” 

Simon looked at her incredulously. 

“Well, what was I going to say? ‘Hi, complete stranger, I heard you playing violin at 2 in the morning, but I’m not asking you to stop, just complimenting your playing’?” 

“That’s a start…” Penny pushed him, playfully. “You should do it” She said. “You need some happiness in your life, I’m worried about you” She didn’t say. 

So, after walking into the flat, Simon made his way up the stairs. Though he didn’t have the music of the violin to encourage him, he still felt more confident than before. He had run his idea by Penny, his official voice of reason, and gotten coffee. He was ready to do this. He stood once again outside the dark, wooden door. He took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and knocked.

The door opened, and a voice said: “Fuck off”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets his morning coffee. He his less useless.

Baz didn’t mean to disturb anyone with his playing. He knew everyone in the building. The woman next door was constantly over at her girlfriend’s house, (typical) Dev from downstairs worked the graveyard shift, and the old woman down the hall was too deaf to care. If any of them had complained, he would have stopped immediately. If Baz was anything, he was polite.

But now, an attractive man had shown up on his doorstep, looking disheveled and nervous, and the first thing he’d said was “Fuck off”

He was expecting it to be his aunt Fiona. She had been coming back all week, telling him to get out of the house. He was fed up with that shit. She couldn’t tell him how to live his life.

But it wasn’t Fiona. It was a gorgeous boy with blue eyes and golden curls and an intoxicating smile. Baz shut the door.

Simon was very confused. This had been a solid plan. He had even thought of what he was going to say (Hi, I’m Simon Snow. I just moved in downstairs and wanted to introduce myself. Do you, by any chance, play the violin?) The door had opened, and standing there was a tall, gaunt man around Simon’s age. He had silky, chin-length black hair, and pale white skin. His eyes were a clear blue-grey, like a deep, stormy ocean. He was wearing fitted jeans. Not tight. Just, wow, they fit him really well. Simon was so busy staring at the stranger; he almost forgot what he’d just heard him say.

“Fuck off.”

That was a surprise. Had he done something wrong? Were you not supposed to knock on people’s doors? Then, all of a sudden, the door was closed, and Simon was left alone.

He wondered what he should do next. He could knock, but he didn’t want to offend the man again. So, he just stood there, thinking. 

On the other side of the door, Baz was having a similar dilemma. He could open it, apologize, and explain the situation. “Hi, sorry I told you to fuck off, I thought you were my emo aunt coming to check on my wellbeing because I’m in the middle of a severe depressive episode. Do you want to hear about my many psychological issues?” That wouldn’t work. But, it turned out the man at the door had made the first move.

A piece of paper had been slipped underneath his door. On closer inspection, he saw that it was actually a napkin from a local café. On it, in messy, childlike handwriting, was written, “I like how you play violin" 

Simon was satisfied with this this solution. He had gotten his message across, and didn’t have to risk another knock.

Baz stared down at the napkin. Was that what the man had come to do? Compliment his playing? No one had done that since - well, it had been a long time.

He was still befuddled by this whole situation, but he knew one thing: he wanted to make this golden boy happy. So, he went over to his violin and music, and flipped to a familiar page. He was… nervous. He was never nervous, but he also never had a willing audience. Regardless, he began to play. He lost himself in the music, forgetting about the awkwardness of this situation. This piece was a favorite. Every note melted into the next, like honey in tea. His mother had loved this song, and it brought up memories of callused hands and happy days.

Simon was sitting down now, leaning his head against the door. He liked this song more than any of the ones he’d heard before. He also liked that he could imagine the man playing, now that he had seen him in real life. If he listened closely, he could hear the man humming the melody under his breath, which was even nicer than the song itself. He never wanted this to end. But, it did, with a final, epic crescendo. Simon felt like he should clap, so he did, enthusiastically. He also felt like the performance deserved a standing ovation, so he stood. Even though he knew the other man couldn’t see him. 

The guy was clapping for him. What a dork. However, he did feel really proud. He took a bow. He guessed that he was a dork too.

Now, they were back to standing in silence, deciding their next move. Baz considered opening the door, but that was a boundary he wasn’t sure he was ready to cross. Simon could’ve knocked, but what was the point. He knew that the other man knew he was there. So, he did what he had come there to do. He said hello.

“Hi, I’m Simon Snow. I… I just moved in downstairs.”

Introductions. Small talk. Politeness. This is what Baz what good at.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. But you can call me Baz.”

“Ok… Baz. Nice to meet you.”

And then he ran away. Well, he didn’t run, exactly… he walked quickly away. He sped down the stairs, and dashed into his flat, and shut the door behind him.

Baz had heard him stomp off. The guy wasn’t exactly subtle. He liked knowing Simon’s name. It’s like they weren’t strangers anymore. 

Simon flopped down on his mattress. This day had been… confusing, but he wasn’t tired. He was still buzzing, overflowing with pure adrenaline. You know… from the coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needs to get away.

Baz could hear Simon moving around in the flat below. He appeared to be pacing. He liked knowing what Simon was up to, liked knowing that Simon existed at all. Baz could imagine it, Snow running his hands through his curls, all red and flustered. Good Christ, he was in too deep. 

Simon was pacing because he didn’t know what to do about Penny. She had been blowing up his phone all afternoon, asking for details. For some reason, he didn’t feel like telling her what had happened. It seemed… private. Also, she would just ask a bunch of questions he didn’t know how to answer. So, like all the things he didn’t want to think about, he avoided it. He took a shower and changed into pajamas. 

He was really, really tired. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Baz, and he knew it would keep him up. As soon as he settled in, however, the music started again. 

It was the time that Baz would normally practice, but it felt different now. He was playing for someone. He was playing for Simon. So, he felt a little nervous as he flipped to the new piece he had been working on. He started, shakily, but then got into the rhythm of the music. He almost didn’t notice that the room below had gone silent, as if someone were holding their breath. Almost. 

It was still beautiful. He wanted Baz to know how beautiful it was, how talented he was. But, he also really, really wanted to go to sleep. And so, he did

He dreamt of music, and Baz, and other lovely things. It was the best rest he had gotten in a long time. But, all too soon, he was awake. 

He got out of bed, and went to the kitchen. There was no food in the fridge, and he had no money to buy some. So, out of sheer necessity, Simon decided that today, he would find a new job. 

He had seen an advert in the paper that fit his description. “Retail - requires little training or education.” He had started at working right after secondary school, a series of shitty gigs that paid the bills. He had thought he had found one he really loved, but… that was over now. 

He took the train to the address, and sat in the lobby. He was just about to go in, when he saw him. Simon froze, not able to think or move or speak. White-hot rage bubbled up from his core, threatening to boil over. The man walked over to him with open arms.  
“Simon!”  
He ran. He didn’t “walk quickly.” He sprinted, at full speed, out of the building and down the street. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get away. 

He didn’t bother taking the train. He ran all the way back to the flat, his face flushed. He had to run. He had to get away.  
He opened the door to the building. His tears were pushing at his eyes, threatening to escape. He couldn’t do this. Then, he heard it.

He followed the sound of the music up the stairs, and back to the dark wooden door. The song was mournful and stunning and slow. It was like the violin had read his mind. He let himself get wrapped up in it, swaddled by the melody. 

Then, he collapsed, resting his head against the door, letting all the emotions from the past few days leak out. He cried. He cried along to the music, and he and the violin wailed together. 

Soon, the song was over, and it was just Simon, sobbing in front of a stranger’s door. Simon heard footsteps, then the click of a lock, and then a voice. 

“Hey, do you want to come inside?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk about it.

He was sitting on Baz’s couch, still a sobbing mess. At some point, Baz must’ve put a blanket over him, but he didn’t remember it. Baz was sitting next to him, his arm around Simon’s shoulders, making comforting noises. This was probably very strange, considering their relationship consisted mostly of exchanges of profanities and violin concerts, but Simon didn’t care. He was fairly preoccupied, what with all the crying.

Baz, on the other hand, was painfully aware of the awkwardness of this situation. They were still practically strangers; they had never even had a proper conversation. If there was one positive, however, it was that he could now get a better look at Simon.

His face was red and splotchy, with moles and freckles sprinkled willy-nilly. On closer inspection, his windswept curls were more bronze than gold, but no less radiant. He smelled like coffee and sugar and rain and smoke. He was also very, very warm. Holding Simon was like cuddling a space heater. Not to say that it was at all unpleasant.

Simon was still shaking, so Baz attempted to calm him down. He mimicked things he remembered his mother doing when he’d had a nightmare, or scraped his knee. He brushed the crying boy’s curls away from his face, and held him tighter.

“It’s ok little puff. Everything’s going to be alright”

Simon began to calm down, his breathing getting slower, his shaking less violent. He held onto Baz for dear life, using him as an anchor to reality.

“It’s all going to be ok.”

Simon wasn’t crying anymore. Now, he was just sitting on this couch, being held by a stranger, and breathing deeply. They sat there, for a while, in a comfortable silence, while he regained his composure.

Baz wasn’t sure how to proceed. Every fiber of his being was urging him to stay here with Simon for as long as humanly possible. But, this silence had to end at some point.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

It was barely a whisper, but they were close enough that Simon heard him just fine.

Simon shook his head.

“Well, do you want a drink?”

Simon sat for a time, thinking about his answer. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

Baz repositioned himself, moving his arm out from behind Simon’s back. He walked over to his kitchen. He could hear Simon follow behind him, and, when he turned around, he saw that the boy had the blanket wrapped around him like a cape.

He reached for a cabinet on top of his fridge. He rummaged around, and pulled out a clear bottle.

The label read “Whipped Cream Flavored Vodka.” Simon giggled.

“What were you expecting? 30 year old scotch whiskey? I’m sorry that I like to enjoy life and get drunk on shit that tastes good.”

Simon laughed again. Baz loved the way that Simon laughed, all bubbly and sweet. He wanted Simon to laugh forever. He wanted him to be happy forever.

He poured out a glass for himself, and then for Simon. They sat at his kitchen counter, drinking in both the alcohol and each other. Simon’s tears were gone, but his eyes were still large and watery.

Now that Simon could see him in the light, Baz wasn’t just white. His skin was pale, but it had a depth to it, with hints of brown and red and gold. Everything about Baz was deep, and layered, and Simon wanted to know every single thing about him.

Soon, their glasses were empty, and Baz asked again

“Do you want to talk about anything?” There was a long pause, as if Simon was weighing his options. Then, abruptly, he got up from his chair and walked back over to the couch. He patted the space beside him, motioning for Baz to come sit.

They sat on the couch together once again, not as close as before, but close enough to melt Baz’s insides like butter on a warm scone.

Simon stared at the wall for a while, thinking of where to begin. Then, he started talking.

“I’ve had kind of a rough week. I… I recently lost my job. Usually, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve had a lot of jobs, y’see, and usually they only last a month or so, but this one was special. It was at a home, like, an orphanage-type place, and I worked with kids. It was great, I got to help them with their problems and find them forever families. I was so happy there.”

Of course Simon was good with kids. Baz doubted he could get any more perfect.

“But then, well, the reason I have had a lot of jobs is I started working right after school, didn’t go to uni. I had to get away… well, I didn’t have the best home life. But I was really happy at the home, and I thought I had finally escaped… but then he showed up. My dad. And he told them lies about me, terrible things that I had never done. That I had been to jail and all this other shit. He got me fired. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to get away from him, because when I went to a job interview, he was there. Like he was expecting me. And, and, and…”

Simon was shaking again. He looked so angry, and sad, and afraid. So Baz held him again. Held him so tight.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok”

He was still vibrating, pulsating with emotion. Baz wrapped his arms around him.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore. It’s ok. You’re ok”

He played with Simon’s hair, running his fingers through the other boy’s curls. Simon was crying again, but he had stopped shaking. He was just weeping, softly, his face pressed into Baz’s chest.

Simon had just poured out his heart and soul to this stranger. It had taken years for Simon to tell Penny all that, and Agatha still didn’t know.

Baz sensed the importance of what Simon had just told him, and felt he should even the playing field.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Simon lifted his head off of Baz’s chest, looking up at him. He nodded his head.

“I haven’t left my apartment in almost 2 months.”

Simon’s eyes got wide.

“What?”

“I haven’t been outside of my apartment in 53 days.”

There was a pause, and then Simon flashed a cheeky smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She needs to know everything, but some things deserve to be secret.

Penny was fucking pissed.

Simon wasn’t answering his phone, and she immediately assumed the worst. He had tripped on the stairs and died. The violinist had turned out to be a serial killer and murdered him. Or, scariest of all, he was blowing her off.

She had given him the benefit of the doubt on the first day. There were plenty of explanations, and she could let it slide. But two days… that was ridiculous. So, she stomped over to Simon’s new flat, and went to his room. She had never been there, but she had helped Simon pick out the place on the Internet.

She knocked on the door. If he didn’t answer in 5 seconds, she was going to kick it in. She heard shuffling, and then she saw him. His eyes were red and puffy, and his clothes looked rumpled and dirty. All the anger she had been feeling melted instantly into compassion and concern. She hugged him tight.

“Si, what’s going on?”

Simon led her to his mattress, and slumped down beside her. He didn’t look sad, per se, just tired. Then, Simon told her everything.

Well, almost everything. There were a few things he still felt should be private, like the standing ovation and whipped cream flavored vodka and just how close together they had been on the sofa. And also, most notably, what Baz had told him.

Simon had been sitting on his couch, getting over his second crying fit, when Baz had started his story.

“I haven’t left my apartment in 2 months”

Then, after some cajoling around and a few more shots of alcohol, he elaborated.

“A little while ago, I was kicked out of my father’s house. It had never been easy, not since my Mum died, but things were getting really tough. It all exploded when I told him… well, I told him something he didn’t want to hear. He kicked me out, and I moved in here.”

Simon’s eyes got wide, and Baz began to backtrack.

“It wasn’t that much of a bother, actually. I had been planning on moving out soon anyways. I just kind of… carried on, you know? But then, 53 days ago, it was the anniversary of my mother’s death. Usually, we’d go to the grave every year as a family, but I decided I wasn’t going to let his bullshit keep me from seeing my mum. So I went to the cemetery, and laid down some flowers. It was okay, really, but then they showed up. He cursed at me, right in front of my sisters, saying how I had no right to be here, and mum wouldn’t have loved me the way that I was. Really, really hurtful shit. So… I ran back here and I locked myself in this apartment, and I haven’t left since.”

Baz wasn’t crying, but Simon heard his voice crack at that last sentence. He saw the tension in his face, obviously doing everything he could to keep it together.

Simon, after a short pause, responded with trademarked tact.

“Shit, man. That’s rough”

That made Baz laugh, which made Simon smile.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Penny had about 2 billion questions. Mostly about his dad, and what he had been doing there. She was surprised at how well Simon kept it together, but she supposed he had gotten most of the tears out with Baz.

On that thought, she stood up, and began to walk out the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Simon jumped up after her.

“To meet Baz. Where else?”

Simon was not a fan of this plan. Penny and Baz were a part of two separate worlds. If they met… it could only go badly.

“Like hell you are!”

He talked a big game, but Simon new that resistance was futile. Penny was already up the stairs by the time he was out the door. She was little, but damn, she was fast.

When Baz heard the knocking at his door, he could only assume it was Simon. They had ended things strangely, with an awkward hug and a new found knowledge of each other’s personal lives, but he supposed they had started things even stranger.

However, when he opened the door, it was not Snow. It was a short, brown girl with ridiculous eyeglasses and bright red hair. She looked Baz up and down, sizing him up. Then, with an indignant huff, she breezed past him into his apartment.

Baz could do nothing but stand there in the doorway, frozen in shock. Luckily, she was followed a few seconds later by an out-of-breath Simon with an apologetic look on his face.

“Its just Penny. She’s always like this.”

A call came from through the door.

“So, are you guys coming in or what?”

They looked at each other, and Simon shrugged.

They went inside Baz’s apartment, and saw Penny sat in one of the armchairs. She gestured towards the couch.

“Please, take a seat.”

It felt strange, being invited into his own home, but Baz obliged. He and Simon sat together on the couch, in a very different situation than the last time. Penny leaned forward.

“So, Basilton. May I call you Basilton?”

Baz nodded. He got the feeling could do anything she damn well pleased, and he didn’t want to try and stop her.

“Basilton. I must be honest; I don’t know you very well. Simon seems to trust you, but Simon also has the tendency to be a fucking idiot. So, we’re going to talk. And I’m going decide if I feel like trusting you. Do you understand?”

Baz swallowed. Hard. But then, he looked at the boy sitting on the couch next to him, with insanely blue eyes and a small, reassuring smile on his lips. It was going to be a long night, but it was going to be worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She learns a lot, but they have even more to learn themselves.

“It’s just, when you’re young, you have this idea about how your life is going to play out. Maybe it’s something your parents told you, or that the media taught you, or that society dictated. Even as you get older, you still have all these… expectations. But then, inevitably, reality gets in the way, and nothing goes how you had planned. And you’re just stuck there, wondering what you did wrong, or what the hell you’re going to do now.”

It was four in the morning, and Penny was learning that, when Baz was drunk and tired, he tended to get very philosophical.

She had learned a lot about Baz in the past several hours. At the beginning, it had been like a mix between a police interrogation and a job interview. She had gruffly asked deeply personal questions, and then stared Baz down until he answered them.

Simon had put a stop to that fairly quickly. He was protective of Baz, it seemed, which told her just as much as the interrogation would’ve. She then moved on to more… subversive methods. She approached it more like a friendly conversation, talking about favorite colors and movies and other seemingly inane topics. Then, she introduced vodka (whipped cream flavored – who’d have thought?) into the equation, and it was all over.

Simon had conked out around 2 AM, and was still asleep on the couch. His messy hair was splayed out on the cushion, his body contorted into a loose knot. Bits of moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating his skin. Even in sleep, he seemed to radiate soft, golden energy. Or maybe Baz was just really drunk.

“I feel that.” Penny responded, “I sure as hell never thought my life would involve sitting on the floor at an ungodly hour with your drunk ass”

He shoved her

“Come on, you know you love me”

“Sure.”

Penny looked over to Baz, her expression shifting from sarcasm to sincerity.

“I really, honestly want to thank you for helping Simon out like this. He needed someone to confide in, and- even though I’m still super pissed he didn’t come to me first- I’m glad it was you.”

Baz nodded his head, sensing the truth behind her words.

“You know, with all that shit with hid dad, and breaking up with Agatha, I really worry about his well being.”

Baz perked up.

“Who’s Agatha?”

Penny sighed. Simon had really gotten himself into a mess with this one.

“She is- was Simon’s girlfriend. They broke up a few days ago. He was pretty torn up about it.”

Baz’s heart dropped to the floor. The room began to spin, and it (probably) wasn’t because of the vodka. He didn’t have time to process this new information, however, because Penny was standing up.

“I told you at the beginning of the night that my purpose here was to decide if I trusted you. Well, I’ve made my decision. I do. I trust you Baz… with Simon. You’re a good man. So, I’m going to head out.”

She grabbed her coat and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

She kept walking.

“Home. Paris. Wherever I want.”

Baz supposed she could, but…

“You’d better not be driving!”

“Why not? I never touched a drop of alcohol.”

He remembered the events of the night, and, now that he thought about it, she never had. Damn, she was good.

She took one last look at the boy sleeping on the couch. She sighed again. She had done her bit, and he would have to sort the rest out himself. Then, she was gone.

Baz sat there for a moment, marveling at the sheer, biblical awesomeness of Penelope Bunce, before he remembered what she had told him. Simon had a girlfriend. Well, not currently, but that was beside the point.

He was foolish to have thought that he and Simon could be anything more than… well, whatever they were. Not strangers anymore, to be sure: they knew too many of each other’s secrets for that. Baz wasn’t sure he could call them friends either. It sounded terribly emo, but Baz had never really had friends. There were people he had hung out with at school, but they were family acquaintances, more allies than anything else.

He looked over at Simon. He had shifted his position, and was now holding a throw pillow like a teddy bear, drooling slightly.

Baz knew one thing: be it friends or something more, he just needed to be  _something_ with Simon Snow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the morning, and Simon gets his morning coffee.

Simon woke up. He was groggy and confused, and had a splitting headache. The light in the room was dim, but it was still enough to make his eyes hurt. He blinked a couple times, trying to get his bearings. Then, he saw Baz.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his hands in his black hair. He was looking down at the ground, with large, sad eyes and slightly pouty lips. He had taken off his sweater at some point in the night, and now had on only a low cut shirt. It exposed his neck and part of his chest. The sight of it made Simon blush.

“Hey”

Baz looked up, and cracked a small smile.

“Look who finally decided to join the land of the living?”

Simon sat up and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, sorry for abandoning you like that. How did the rest of the night go- wait, where’s Penny?”

“Hell if I know.”

Simon checked his phone. She had left him a text.

Penny: Went home. My work here is done.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

Baz had stood up, and was walking around the flat. He was trying to make it seem casual, so that Simon wouldn’t notice, but he was pacing. He didn’t know how to act around Simon. Well, he had never known how to act around Simon, but before, he was never given the opportunity to think. Things just… happened.

Simon could tell something was wrong with Baz. He was pacing, which was never a good sign. He really hoped that it didn’t have anything to do with him. The last thing in the world he wanted was for Baz to be unhappy. So, with a lot of effort, he got up.

Baz was stopped beside the closed front door, trying to calm himself down. It was okay. He was okay with just being friends. But, he was really tired, and more than a little hung over, so his emotions started to get the better of him.

Then, a hand was on his shoulder. Baz turned. Simon had somehow been able to himself up from the couch.

Baz’s eyes were filled with confusion, and sadness, and so much more. Simon just wanted to take all his pain away. Simon just wanted to take him away. His lips were trembling slightly, very pink against his monochromatic skin. Baz’s lips…

Simon wrapped his arms around Baz’s neck, pulling his head down. Then, he kissed him.

All of the emotions and thoughts that had previously crowded his mind were shoved aside by one, irrefutable fact: Simon Snow was kissing him. His mouth was warm, just like the rest of him, and his lips were unbelievably soft. He was stunned, for a moment, but then melted into the kiss, letting it take over his entire world. And then,all at once, it was over.

Simon pulled back, staring at Baz for a second, and then he ran. He opened the door, and sprinted down the hall.

Baz was surprised, but he probably shouldn’t have been. Simon Snow was always running. He stood there, in shock. He hadn’t had time to process the kiss itself, not to mention the absence of it.

Simon was still running.

Baz was sitting down now, and all the insecurities and doubts came flooding back, accompanied by a whole host of new ones.

“He could never love you, no one could.”

“You’ve lost the chance of any relationship with him at all.”

“He ran because he regrets kissing you.”

But, even if that was true, why had he kissed him in the first place? He could still feel Simon’s warmth on his lips, Simon’s hands around his neck. He wanted to cry, and laugh, and die, all at the same time.

Simon didn’t let himself think about anything that had just happened. There would be no point. He kept running.

Baz had his head in his hands. He wondered if he was ever going to see Simon again. With his luck, Simon was probably going to the airport, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

Simon was still running, but in a different direction.

Baz was moping, thinking about how long it would take to get to Australia, when there was a knock at the door. He almost had a heart attack, and jumped up off the couch.

He took a deep breath. He stood, once again, at his door, deciding whether or not to open it. This time, however, it didn’t take much deliberation.

He opened the door, and standing there was Simon bloody Snow, holding two cups of coffee. He gave Baz a small but heartwarming smile.

“Can I come in?”

Baz stood to the side, letting Simon brush past him. He probably should have reprimanded him, or at least asked him why he had run, but Simon started talking before he could get a word out.

“Sorry for running off like that. Y’see, I really can’t be trusted to make important decisions before I get my coffee in the mornings, and… well, what we were, uh, doing seemed like a pretty important decision. So, I was like, ‘Simon, you should really get some coffee before you do anything’ and there’s this place a few blocks from here that I’ve been to a couple of times, so went there.”

His face was flushed. He looked down at the coffees in his hands.

“Oh! I thought it would have been rude for me not to get a coffee for you too. I was thinking about what to get for you, and initially I was thinking just, black coffee, because you can be pretty serious sometimes, but then I remembered the vodka, and…”

Simon handed the cup to Baz, who then took the lid off of it. There was so much whipped cream at the top that he couldn’t see the liquid underneath.

“I don’t know what it’s called. I just asked the barista what the best drink with whipped cream was, and she said this. I… I hope you like it.”

Baz couldn’t help but smile. Simon had gone through so much trouble for him, and he was so cute when he rambled on. It was like he had all these words in his head, and his mouth just couldn’t get them out fast enough.

“So,” Baz asked, “do you want to just, drink our coffee for a little while?”

He nodded his head, and went over to the couch. They sat there, sipping their drinks in silence. Baz didn’t really know what to make of this whole situation, but he was just glad that Simon had come back at all. The barista was right: the coffee was good. It had a little bit of tang to offset the sweetness, and some cinnamon-y undertones.

Once Baz had finished his drink, he looked over at Simon.

“So, have you umm… come to a decision?”

Simon turned to Baz, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I think I have”

Then, he leaned forward, and they picked up right where they had left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; )


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There always seems so be a knock at the door.

Kissing Baz was honestly quite fascinating. His lips were rough and warm, and still tasted like the coffee from earlier. The barista had been right: it was nice. Or maybe that was just Baz. He seemed to be surprised by everything Simon did, every move he made. Simon had never kissed a boy before, but he was sure that he wanted to keep kissing this boy in particular for as long as possible. 

The world was on fire. Simon Snow was still kissing him, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. He had moved his body even closer, and was practically on Baz’s lap. Baz had never really kissed anyone before, which he guessed was kind of pathetic at his age, but his life had a tendency to be kind of pathetic. He didn’t really care, though, because what mattered was that someone was kissing him right now.

Simon was having a dilemma. He wanted to keep kissing Baz, but he also really wanted to look at him. He wanted to memorize every detail of his face, imprint it on his mind. So, he pulled back, and looked into Baz’s eyes.

They were breathing together, and looking at each other. Simon held Baz’s face in his palm, running his thumb over his cheekbone. Baz stared at the many moles and freckles that dotted Simon’s face. He kissed some of them, which made Simon giggle. Simon collapsed into Baz’s lap, laying his head on his chest. Baz ran his hands through bronze curls, twisting them around his fingers.

The quiet was comfortable and soft, like the moment between the ending of one song and the beginning of another. Then, there was a knock at the door. There always seemed to be a knock at the door.

Simon jumped at the sound, holding Baz closer, but then groaned when he realized he would have to let go. Baz sat there for a moment, not wanting to leave Simon’s side, but the knock returned, louder and more persistent. He reluctantly shifted his position and stood up, but before he could walk away, Simon grabbed his collar and pulled him down for one more kiss. Baz went over to the door, a dopey grin on his face.

He opened it just wide enough to see who was there. His breath hitched, and then he sighed. It was Fiona.

He opened it a bit more, sticking his face into the hall.

“What are you doing here?”

The woman looked at him incredulously, crossing her arms. She was wearing a worn leather jacket, black jeans and 20-year-old Doc Martens.

She rolled her eyes. “The same thing I’ve been ‘doing here’ for the past two months, Basilton. Let me inside.”

Simon had no idea what was going on, but the situation gave him a nice view of Baz’s butt, so he didn’t mind.

“Umm… not now.”

“’Not now?’ No slamming the door in my face, no swearing, just ‘Not now?’ What’s going on?”

She tried to see inside the apartment, but he blocked her way. She stood back, and took a good look at her nephew. Then, she gasped.

“Baz, do you have a bloke in there?”

His eyes got wide, and he shook his head.

“W-What makes you say that?”

Well, his mussed hair, his rumpled clothes, and his dilated pupils, just to start.

“You’re blushing Basilton.”

He began to protest, but Fiona just pushed past him. Sure, he was tall, but he was honestly pretty weak.

An older woman with highlights and black eyeliner shoved Baz aside, walking into the flat. She looked at Simon, and smirked. A very flushed and very agitated Baz followed soon after her.

“So, what were you saying Baz?”

He spluttered. Simon liked seeing him so flustered. It was honestly quite adorable.

“Fiona, umm, this is…”

Simon stood up and walked over to her.

“Simon Snow.”

She shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you Simon. I’m Baz’s aunt Fiona.”

The boy had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a bit of a cheeky smile. Fiona liked him. What she liked more, however was that Baz had a boy in his apartment.

Baz was still fidgeting, his face bright red. He went over the couch and sat down with overdramatic distress. Simon sat next to him, still grinning.

Fiona sat down, cupping her face in her hands in fascination.

“So… how did you two… meet?”

She had only a seen him a week ago, but that must’ve been enough time for Baz to get out of his funk, go out into the world, meet a guy, and bring him back to his place. She needed to hear that story.

Baz set his jaw, looking into the distance. He was not going to tell her anything.

Simon, on the other hand, was ready to spill.

“Well, it’s kind of a funny story. I moved in to the building recently, and heard him playing the violin. I went up to his door, and I was just going to say hi and maybe compliment him, but he opened it and told me to fuck off”

Fiona laughed out loud. She was stupid to have thought it could’ve gone any way other than that.

Baz sputtered once again.

“I can- I need to explain that. I thought that it was Fiona, telling me to get out of my flat. I was not being rude. I am never rude.”

Simon looked at him and giggled.

“So, anyway, we sorted out that situation, and I came back after, well, a difficult experience, and Baz helped me through it.”

Baz was blushing profusely, and looking at Simon with puppy dog eyes. Fiona hadn’t seen him this happy since before Nat had died. But…

“Just to clarify, all of this happened within the walls of this flat.”

Baz looked down.

“Yeah.”

She sighed. But, she supposed this was progress enough for now.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Simon.”

She shook his hand again.

She went over to Baz, and leaned in close, whispering.

“I’m happy for you, Basil, but you still need to talk to your father.”

Baz tensed up, and looked at her.

“Hey.” she said, a small smile on her lips, “At least you won’t have to do it alone.”

She looked over at the golden boy on the couch, patted Baz’ shoulder, and left the flat.

Baz breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around Simon once again. He hated to say it, but Fiona was right. He felt a lot braver with Snow by his side.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon needs to buy milk, and Baz needs to tell him.

Simon didn’t want to fall asleep on the couch. He wanted to kiss Baz and stay up with with Baz for the rest of time. But, he was so exhausted. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, and Baz hadn’t slept at all.

He was the most tired he had ever been in his life. He should’ve been asleep, but the electricity of Simon’s closeness was keeping him up. Simon didn’t seem to have that problem; he was wrapped around Baz like a koala bear. He took one last deep sniff of golden curls, and then he was out.

Simon woke up a couple times during the night, not knowing where he was. Then, he would look up at Baz, and snuggle in tighter.

When the morning came, they were a tangled mess of limbs and blankets on the couch. Simon was the first to wake. He had never seen Baz asleep before. All the poise and stoicism was replaced by a small smile and a touch of drool. It was adorable.

Baz woke with a start. The body that had been next to him was gone. For a hot second, he thought that it might have all been a dream. Then, a voice came from behind him.

“Look who finally decided to join the land of the living.”

Baz groaned.

“Why are you up so early?”

Simon walked back into Baz’s view.

“First of all, it’s after ten.”

He was holding a spoon and a bowl of cereal.

“Also, I have another job interview.”

Baz sat up, suddenly concerned. He looked at Simon pointedly.

Simon laughed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think my dad will find me there. It’s at a yarn and fabric store.”

Baz perked up.

“Is it Millicent’s Quality Knitwear?”

Simon’s jaw dropped.

“How the hell do you know that?”

Baz looked down.

“It’s the best in town. I used to go there, before…”

Simon was still astounded.

“Baz, do you knit?”

The boy blushed.

“Yeah, you know, scarves, sweaters, the occasional hat.”

This was amazing. Baz knitted.

“Well, I’m headed there now. I’ll probably go to the café after.”

“Ok, cool” Simon leaned down and gave Baz a kiss. He walked out the door with a smile on his face. Baz liked to knit.

He took the train down to the shop. There it was, right on the sign.

“Millicent’s Quality Knitwear”

He walked through the door, a bell signaling his entrance. Three older women stood behind the counter, turning their heads to look at him. They had complimentary pastel sweaters and reading glasses. They’re pants were nearly as high as their standards.

“I’m um, here for the job interview”

One of them looked him up and down, and called out.

“Harriet, get out here”

Another woman with short hair and a tasteful vest emerged from the back room, eying Simon critically. He was in a room full of grandmas, but he had never felt so judged.

He needed to break the ice.

“So, which one of you is Millicent?”

A severe woman with a Scottish accent and icy blue hair stepped out from the group.

“So, sir, what do you know about this job?”

Simon gulped. He knew that he needed it if he wanted to buy milk, and not much else. Well, actually, one other thing.

“Well, my friend Baz used to come in here.”

All at once, the ladies’ faces softened. They all began together.

“Oh, you know Basilton! I…”

“Tell him he needs to come in here more often…”

“He is the sweetest boy…”

Finally, Millicent raised a hand, silencing the group. Her eyes narrowed.

“So… how do you and Basil… know each other?”

The women simultaneously got the same mischievous glint in their eyes.

Simon broke into a sweat.

Baz was at the flat, still trying to wake up. He had made himself some beans on toast, and got out the jumper he had been working on. Hearing about Millicent’s again had inspired him. He hoped Simon’s interview was going well. All of a sudden, there was the sound of a notification. Simon had left his phone on the coffee table. He picked it up. There was a text.

Dad: I’m at that café you go to. You can’t avoid me forever

He froze. Simon’s dad was going to be at the café where Simon was going after his interview. And, on top of that, he had no way of contacting him.

“Neighbors…”

Simon sighed.

“Yes, just neighbors”

Millicent raised her eyebrow.

“You know, me and Harriet were ‘just roommates’ for most of the 1970s. I know what I’m about son.”

They were sitting down now, the ladies leaning forward attentively.

Simon blushed.

“Ok, maybe more than ‘just neighbors”

The ladies clucked and chirped, shaking their heads knowingly.

Simon thought on it. They really were just neighbors, just neighbors that knew each other’s deepest secrets and made out sometimes.

“So, where has our Basilton been for all this time?”

“He’s been in kind of a bad place. Family business.”

“Well, tell him to come by any time. Maybe he will if his… ‘more than neighbor’ works here”

Simon shook her hand. He would be able to buy milk after all.

Baz was freaking out. He had to get to Simon. He had to warn him- had to help him. There was only one thing to do. He took three deep breaths. He grabbed the phone and went over to the door, hesitating at the knob. He couldn’t do this. But then, he remembered the golden boy sobbing on his couch, the despair in his nonsensically blue eyes, and he opened the door.

For the first time in 55 days, Baz was outside of his apartment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz goes outside, and Simon isn’t alone.

The first thing that Baz noticed when he stepped out of the door was the cold. It was biting, severe and shocking. He hadn’t been out of his temperature-controlled room in 2 months, and the wind and weather was exhilarating. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sunlight. Then, he remembered his mission. He had to get to Simon. He pulled out his phone and began following the directions.

It felt unseasonably warm outside, but that could have been because Simon was still blushing from the ladies’ exhaustive questioning. They honestly had no boundaries. It had gotten him a job though, so he didn’t mind. He was rounding the corner, about to get to the café, when he bumped into someone. He apologized, and then looked up from the ground. He gasped. In front of him was Baz. He looked so good in the sun and the cold, his slightly tanned skin practically radiating. The natural light reflected off of his deep grey eyes. He was so breathtaking that Simon couldn’t get out more than a whisper.

“Baz, you’re outside”

Then, it hit him. Why was Baz outside? He saw the distress in Baz’s eyes. He looked around frantically, searching for a dead body or a nuclear bomb. Then, he found it.

His father was standing there, in front of the doors of the café. Baz turned around, following Simon’s gaze. It fell on an older man who looked just like Simon, just with more stubble and darker hair. He grabbed the golden boy’s hand. He wasn’t going to have to face this alone.

Simon felt Baz’s hand in his. It was cold, but not in an unpleasant way. His father was there. His father was at his café. He had to run. He had to run. But, Baz was there too. Baz was there, and he was holding his hand. Baz was there, and his eyes had a protective glint. Baz was there, and he wasn’t alone.

Davy saw his son. He was over to the left, standing next to some boy. He made eye contact, and waved.

His father had seen him. He began to tremble. Baz gripped his hand tighter.

Davy began to walk towards his son.

Simon was shaking, and Baz had no way to stop it. Squeezing his hand wouldn’t solve this problem. The man was walking toward them. Baz turned to Simon, and saw tears in those crystal blue eyes. He had to do something.

“Stay away from him!”

Baz didn’t even realize he was talking until after the words were out of his mouth. He was worried he had fucked everything up, but then Simon squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“He- He doesn’t want you in his life anymore!”

Davy was taken aback. Who was this boy to talk to him like this?

“Who are you? What do you know about my son’s life?”

Baz hesitated. What did he know about Simon’s life? They had only met a few days ago. What were they to each other? What was he doing here, outside of his apartment? However, before he could completely break down, Simon spoke.

“He’s my…”

What was he going to say? Friend? Neighbor? Acquaintance? None of them quite fit. Then, he looked over at beautiful, the raven-haired boy next to him, and remembered his talk with the women at Millicent’s.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Baz’s breath hitched, but he squeezed the hand tighter. He was Simon’s boyfriend.

Davy was shocked. Sure, he hadn’t been as big of a presence in his son’s life lately, but this was… a development.

“Really, boy?”

Simon spoke again, with renewed confidence.

“Yes, and he- he’s right. I don’t want you in my life. So, so, please leave.”

Davy was stunned. His son had never raised his voice to him like this.

“Or what?”

“Or… we’ll get a restraining order.”

Davy looked into his son’s eyes. He knew bluffing when he saw it, and Simon was dead serious. The tall boy with the black hair looked at him in awe, then turned his gaze to Davy, his expression changing to pure loathing.

He would not deal with these insolent children today; there were too many people. He also didn’t want to go to court, though he didn’t know where his son could find a decent lawyer. So, he walked away, leaving the two alone.

Simon was still shaking violently. That was the most he had talked to his father in many years, and the first time he had yelled at him since his mom had died. He collapsed into Baz, letting strong arms wrap around him.

Simon looked so small. He had always been shorter than Baz, but this experience had drained all of his energy, leaving him tiny and frail. Baz held him tightly, holding his head to his chest. He wasn’t crying though, and seemed to be calming down.

After a few moments, Simon looked up at Baz, and smiled a small, tired smile.

He then said, in a faint voice, “Baz, you’re outside.”

Baz smiled back.

“I know. And you called me your boyfriend.”

Simon took one final deep breath in, inhaling the scent of Baz’s sweater. It smelled like posh soap and smoke and - Millicent’s Quality Knitwear. He guessed that it was homemade. Then, he stepped away, and took Baz’s hand. He turned his head.

“I know.”

Baz remembered where he was, and what had gotten him here.

“I- I have your phone. Your dad texted, that’s how I knew.”

He handed the phone to Simon. He smiled.

“Thanks… So, Baz, what do you want to do now?”

Baz looked off into the distance, breathing in the cold early afternoon air.

“Well, now that I’m out… I have something I need to do.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz has something he needs to do, and Simon has to hold his hand

They were sitting on a train. Out the window, dull yet idyllic English countryside sped past, the sun out for the first time in weeks. Simon wasn’t looking out the window though; he was too busy staring at Baz. Before today, he had only existed in one place in Simon’s mind. His presence was eternally linked to light grey walls and a dark wooden door and a surprisingly comfortable couch. Now, however, he had seen him in so many different lights and new locations, through tears and laughter and smoke. He couldn’t stop staring.

Baz was looking at Simon too. He was still weak and worn out, but he was smiling, and that was enough for now. He was Simon’s boyfriend. He kept repeating that to himself in his mind, trying to wrap his head around it. He felt like that was all he was ever supposed to be, all he had ever wanted to be.

“Simon, just to warn you, this might be rough. You don’t have to talk to my dad if you don’t want to.”

Simon nodded, still smiling.

“Baz?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you feel better if I talk to your dad?”

Baz thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

“No, I really just need you to hold my hand.”

Simon said, “Okay” and then he grabbed Baz’s hand.

“You don’t have to start now.”

“But, what if I want to?”

Baz smiled, and laced his fingers through the other boy’s.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really gonna be able to get a restraining order?”

“Yeah, actually. I know a really good lawyer. I’ll probably call her soon.”

“That’s good”

“Yeah, its just, its kind of complicated.”

Baz turned his head.

“Why?”

When Agatha Wellbelove heard her phone ring, she immediately knew it was Simon. It was her personal cell, and her mum had just called, so it really couldn’t have been anyone else. She sighed. She was surprised he hadn’t called earlier. They had taken breaks before, but he had always called a week later, begging to get back together. This one had felt… different, more final, but she supposed that couldn’t stop Simon. She picked up the phone, opting to answer it formally.

“Wellbelove and Associates. How may I help you?”

“Hi, Agatha. It’s me. Look, I know things are kind of weird between us, but I have something to ask.”

Here it comes: the begging, the pleading, the apologies.

“How easy is it to get a restraining order?”

That was a surprise.

“Against whom?”

There was a pause on the other line.

“My father.”

His father? In all two years of their relationship, Simon had never once mentioned his father.

“Well, Simon, this is quite… I can do it, though. Restraining orders are fairly common practice, mostly paperwork. May I ask why you want a restraining order against your father?”

“Umm, well, I didn’t have the best childhood, he, um, wasn’t the best father and he’s kind of been stalking me lately, and I, I”

Agatha heard a faint, protective shushing coming from the other side. Simon must have someone there with him.

“Well, anyway, I would like a restraining order, and you’re the best lawyer I know.”

Agatha had to pause for a moment and process this information.

“Simon, is that the only reason you called? Legal assistance?”

“Yeah.”

Things hadn’t been going well with Simon for a long time. They had grown apart, and in the end, they just wanted different things. It had been mutual, which surprised Agatha. Usually, Simon would insist on sticking around, believing that they had some sort of golden future together, with a big house and kids and a dog. Now, however, he wasn’t even talking about a relationship with her. He was talking about a familial restraining order.

“Okay, I’ll call you back about this later, I guess? You should come by my office at some point.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

There were a few moments of quiet on the other end, followed by muffled conversation. Then, after they had apparently reached a consensus, Simon was back.

“Me and my boyfriend.”

Then, abruptly, he hung up. This day just kept getting more interesting.

By the time the call was over, the train was nearly at it’s final destination. Baz and Simon were still holding hands, ready to face the world.

They took a short cab ride down winding country roads. The houses were all huge, with arches and gardens and stained glass windows. It was like fucking Downton Abbey. Simon tried to imagine Baz growing up here, going to balls and playing in the huge trees. In actuality, Baz had never climbed a tree, though he had been to a ball or two.

When the car finally came to a stop, Simon was dumbstruck. The house was black and huge and looming, with at least 3 floors and a long driveway. He felt Baz’s hand tense, and squeezed it tighter. If that was what he needed, than by God, Simon was going to hold this boy’s hand. They got out of the car, and began the long walk to the house.

Baz was freaking out. The last time he had been here, his dad had thrown him out, shoving him out the door. Was he doing this all too fast? He should’ve stayed in his flat, where he was warm and safe and… alone. He looked at the boy holding his hand. He looked at his boyfriend. He was going to do this.

All of a sudden, they were standing in front of the huge black doors. Baz took a deep breath in, and then he knocked.

There was the sound of footsteps, and then the door was open. Standing in front of them was a stout, older woman in an apron, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her face was severe, but when she saw Baz, her eyes lit up.

“Lord Basilton!”

Then, she saw Simon, remembering the last time Baz had been in this house, and her stern expression returned.

“Lord Basilton. What brings you and your guest here so unexpectedly?”

He swallowed.

“I am here to see my father.”

She nodded, and led them into the foyer.

The house was even grander on the inside. The curtains were heavy red velvet, and the stairs were polished dark wood. Above Simon’s head, there was a crystal chandelier. He felt out of place, and embarrassed for tracking mud onto the floors.

Baz, on the other hand, felt nothing but apprehension. He was back in the house. His father’s house, the place he had been running from for all this time. And, he was here voluntarily. He looked at Simon, and saw his wide eyes. This was probably the most magnificent house he’d ever seen. He realized just how different their upbringings had been. This train of thought was interrupted, however, when Malcolm Grim appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked up, gripped Simon’s hand tighter, and began to speak.

“Hello, Father.”

Malcolm looked down at his son. He was dressed like a commoner, in jeans and a tee shirt. He was thinner and paler than the last time he had seen him. And, most importantly, he was holding the hand of a boy. He had dark golden curls, freckled skin and blue eyes. He was shorter than Basil, and looked scared and protective. Baz was talking to him.

“Father, I know you don’t approve of me or who I am, but…”

Malcolm wasn’t paying attention to his son’s words. He looked so much like Natasha, especially when he was acting so indignant. The look on his face had brought back memories.

Many years ago, he had stood with Natasha, holding her hand. In front of them were her parents, looking down disapprovingly. Sure, Malcolm’s family was well off, but they were just farmers. He was no one’s first choice. But she defended him, told them that she loved him and would fight for him. She was so brave. She was always so brave, and she had chosen him. Now, he saw himself in the eyes of that boy holding his son’s hand. He sighed.

“Basilton, what is his name?”

Baz stopped mid-rant, looking over at the boy next to him.

“Simon. His name is Simon, and he’s, he’s my boyfriend.”

Malcolm walked slowly down the stairs. He went over to the two.

“Hello Simon. I have a question.”

The boy looked up at him, obviously terrified.

“Do you love my son?”

Simon swallowed. He’d thought he wouldn’t have to talk. He looked at Baz. His eyes were confused and frantic. He did. It was so soon, and nothing made sense, but he knew one thing. He loved Baz.

Simon nodded, squeezing Baz’s hand tighter.

Malcolm turned.

“Basilton, I… I’m sorry. I have been foolish, and irrational. You’re sisters have missed you.”

He patted his son on the back awkwardly.

“You may stay for dinner, if you wish.”

He walked back up the stairs. Natasha had chosen him, and she was gone, but he still had Baz, and she wouldn’t want him to let him go.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stay for dinner.

“Just how many rooms does this place have?”

That made Baz laugh. He was holding Simon’s hand, leading him up to his room. Dinner at the Pitch house was not something to which one could wear jeans, so he was going to borrow one of Baz’s many suits.

Every new room they entered seemed grander than the last. The ballroom. The library. Even the hallways were magnificent, with polished hardwood and formidable paintings of long-dead relatives. They finally arrived at Baz’s door. Simon laughed at the thought. He was always at Baz’s door these days, wasn’t he?

They went inside. Simon shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. There was a massive four-poster bed, complete with curtains and, wait, were those gargoyles? There were gargoyles on Baz’s bed.

Baz rushed off into his closet, and Simon was left to take in the room. It, and the rest of this house, was so staggeringly different than Baz’s flat. The flat was all whites and greys, stainless steel and throw pillows. It was tidy, but lived in. This place was a fucking museum, complete with medieval artifacts.

Soon, Baz returned, holding suit jackets and pants and crisp white shirts. As he handed Simon the one he had picked out for him, they both blushed. They had no way of knowing it, but they were thinking the same thing.

“God, I bet he’ll look amazing in this.”

They stood there for a bit, unsure of what to do. Then, Baz spoke.

“So, I think I’ll, umm, you can change in here, and umm, I’ll go back in the closet.”

Simon laughed.

“Really? After all we just went through?”

Baz blushed, trying to look angry.

“No, I – you know what I mean.”

“Yeah” Simon leaned in and kissed Baz lightly on the lips. That didn’t help at all with the blushing.

They went to their respective areas and started getting changed. Baz finished quickly. He had done this a million times before. He pondered whether or not to wait for a bit in case Simon was still changing, but he decided against it. And, if he happened to catch him shirtless, would it really be the end of the world?

When he walked back out, Simon was (disappointingly) fully clothed, save his necktie.

Simon was having a dilemma. He had no idea how to tie a tie, but he didn’t want to ask Baz. He might think he was stupid or immature. Baz could probably style a cravat in his sleep. His thoughts were halted, however, when he saw Baz. His suspicions were confirmed. He did, in fact, look ravishing in a suit. He stopped fiddling with the tie and just stared at him. He looked like James Bond. Or a vampire. Or vampire James Bond. In any case, it was right hot.

“Do you need some help with that?”

Simon blinked. Oh yeah, the tie.

“Umm, yeah. I’m having a bit of trouble.”

Baz walked, no, glided over to Simon. They were very close. Baz began folding the fabric over itself, eventually pulling the knot tight.

“There.”

They were facing each other, chests almost touching. Baz’s eyes had moved from the tie to Simon’s lips. Simon looked up at him and smiled. He had been right. Simon looked amazing in a suit. Simon put his arm around Baz’s waist and pulled him in closer.

“We should probably get down to dinner.” Baz said, his eyes not moving from Simon’s lips.

Simon nodded.

“Mmm hmm”

“We’re going to be late, Simon”

He nodded again, and then moved his arm to around Baz’s neck.

“Mmm hmm”

“Si-“

Before he could continue, Simon pulled Baz’s head down and kissed him deep. Baz’s hand moved quickly into Simon’s curls, the other still on his newly tied tie.

There was urgency, a need. It had taken Simon every shred of willpower not to tackle Baz as soon as he stepped through the closet door. He was so brave. He was so hot. He had chosen him.

All of a sudden, there was a gasp. Standing in the doorway was Baz’s 11-year-old sister Mordelia, eyes wide as soup plates. For once, Baz wished that there had been a knock at the door.

They broke apart, self-consciously adjusting their clothes. Baz was staring daggers at her, trying to communicate that snitches most definitely get stitches.

She seemed to get the message, and smiled mischievously.

“Basil, father had requested that you and your… guest come down for dinner.”

Baz nodded curtly, and then turned to Simon. He smiled, adjusting the other boy’s tie, and then walked out of the room, motioning for him to follow.

Once they got down to dinner, the whole family was there. Man, Baz had a lot of sisters. Mordelia threw them one last look and sat down at the other side of the table. All the other girls were looking at Simon with fascination. They sat own. Daphne, Baz’s stepmother, smiled at them.

“Glad you boys could finally join us.”

The meal was 3 courses of posh foods that Simon couldn’t even try to pronounce, all served with a side of exhaustive questioning.

“Simon! What’s your favorite color?”

“Simon! Do you like the soup?”

“Simon! Are unicorns real?”

“Simon! Why are your eyes blue?”

It was just like Millicent’s only more, uh, G-Rated. He didn’t mind answering them. They were all so adorable. It was also good because it kept the conversation away from Baz’s father. Sure, he was being nice, but he had no way of knowing if he would stay that way.

Mordelia had been silent throughout the meal, but as everyone was finishing desert, she asked a question of her own.

“Simon, will you be staying the night? If so… where are you going to sleep?”

Baz swore under his breath. She was an evil mastermind. He had hoped that this topic wouldn’t come up at all, that everyone would just forget and they could do as they pleased. But at dinner in front of everyone? He hated her.

There was an awkward pause, no one daring to speak. His younger siblings had no idea what was going on, but they were Grimms. They knew how to read a room.

The silence was broken by, of all people, Malcolm Grimm.

“I was thinking that we could put him in the Lavender room”

Baz was expecting as much. The Lavender room was where they usually stuck guests, and it was pleasant enough. It was also, conveniently, just down the hall from his room. But his dad probably wasn’t thinking about that.

They went upstairs, going back into Baz’s room. They stood there awkwardly for a second, not knowing if they could pick up where they left off. Baz sighed.

“You can borrow some of my pajamas, if you want.”

Simon nodded, and sat down on Baz’s bed. It was really high up off the ground. He wondered how he’d gotten up on it when he was little. Then, he looked over in the corner and saw an old stepping stool. He smiled.

Baz returned with silk pajamas, laying them on the bed beside Simon. As he passed by Baz on the way to change in the closet, he whispered in his ear.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, you look like a goddamned sexy vampire in that suit.”

Baz blushed again. Sexy vampire. He liked the sound of that.

They were sitting in the Lavender room now, talking about the dinner.

“You were brilliant down there, Simon. Again, I’m sorry for my sisters, they can be very curious.”

Simon smiled.

“No, it was adorable.”

Baz sighed, and stood up.

“I should probably head back.”

Simon nodded, squeezing Baz’s hand.

“Okay”

Baz leaned down, giving Simon a quick kiss on the cheek, and then left, closing the door behind him.

Simon tried to go to sleep, he really did. Its just, the past few nights, he had been aided by the sound of Baz’s music or Baz’s warmth. Now, he just felt cold and alone.

He threw off his covers and padded quietly down the hall. He reached Baz’s door, and crept in. Baz was asleep, splayed out on the king sized mattress. He stood there, watching him sleep for a while, and then climbed in beside him. Baz’s eyes opened lazily, and he smiled.

“Back so soon?”

“Shhhhh. Go back to sleep.”

Baz molded his body around Simon’s, letting the other boy warm him up. They were both out within minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go home.

Mordelia walked down the hall to her brother’s room. These, so far, had been the best two days of her life. Her older brother had always been this high and mighty figure, only coming down to her level to be condescending or give crap advice. 

She had always imagined him as some sort of sexless robot, never getting crushes or having any illogical human emotions. But then, she had walked in on him snogging a boy. The look on his face had been priceless. 

Also, though she would never tell him, she had missed him. The day Father kicked him out had had been one of the worst of her life, second only to the debacle at the cemetery. She was glad to have him home. 

Now, she was standing in front of the door. 

“I’ll bet you £100 that Simon is in there with him,” she thought, to no one in particular. 

She did have the common decency to knock this time. 

Baz woke with a start. Someone was knocking at his door. He looked over at Simon, still sleeping soundly in his arms. He really didn’t want to get up. But, the knock returned, and he wriggled out of bed, walking over to the door. He opened it a crack. 

“Hello Mordelia.” 

She smiled. 

“Hello Basilton. Would you like to join us for breakfast?” 

He sneered at her. 

“Yes, sister dear.” 

“Shall I go and get Simon then?” 

“No!” 

His face grew panicked for a moment, and then returned to its normal state. 

“I’ll do it. Thank you for offering.” 

She smirked. The universe owed her 100 quid. 

Breakfast was over, and they were back in the foyer once again. 

A mob of small girls surrounded Simon, begging him not to leave. He smiled, looking over at Daphne pleadingly. 

“Girls, Simon and Baz have to get going. Say goodbye to them and go to your rooms.” 

They sighed, but then went over to Baz, giving him goodbye hugs. 

Now, it was just Daphne, Malcolm, and Mordelia, with Simon still holding Baz’s hand. 

Mordelia went over to her brother, looking him dead in the eye. 

“It was good to see you, Basil.” 

Baz could sense the truth behind those words. He thought about a handshake, but opted instead for a hug. She may be an evil mastermind, but she was still his sister. 

She then moved over to Simon, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Treat him right kid. Or I’ll beat you up.” 

He laughed. 

“You’re ten.” 

“Eleven. And a half.” 

She turned on her heel and walked back up the stairs. 

Daphne hugged them both. She really was a lovely woman. 

Finally, it was Malcolm’s turn to say goodbye. Basilton still looked so much like Natasha. He went over and shook his son’s hand. He was going to try his best. 

Then, he moved over to Simon. The boy still looked terrified, though he was smiling politely. Malcolm tried his best to get across his message. 

It’s okay, son. It’s going to be ok. All you have to do now is hold his hand. 

He looked him meaningfully in the eye, and shook his hand firmly. He stepped back. 

“Have a safe trip.” 

Once they got to the station, they realized that their train didn’t leave for 2 hours. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I’m a little hungry.” 

Baz was aghast. 

“Simon, you literally just had breakfast.” 

Simon shrugged. 

“I’m always hungry. Do you want food or not?” 

It turned out that there was a little bakery in the train station. It wasn’t high-class or quirky or French. It didn’t even have a name. The sign just said “BAKERY” in a nondescript font. 

They went inside. The shelves behind the glass held only day-old croissants and a couple of scones. Simon’s eyes lit up. He was such a dork. He ran up to the counter, pointing at one of the scones. He turned back to Baz. 

“Do you want anything, love?” 

Simon froze. He hadn’t meant to say it. Was it too soon? 

Baz smiled. He was a dork, but he was his dork. 

“Get me one of whatever you’re having.” 

He looked back at the teenage cashier. 

“Two cherry scones, please. Oh, and some butter too, if you have it.” 

“That’ll be all sir?” the kid said back in a thick welsh accent. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

They went out and sat on a bench by a window. They looked out, watching the clouds move. Maybe it was the day, or maybe it was Baz, or maybe he was just really hungry, because those were the best scones he’d ever tasted. 

He leaned into Baz, letting him play with his hair. 

They got on the train, and the rest of the ride went on like that: perfectly ordinary, but also perfect. 

After they got back into the city, they walked around a bit, making their way back to the apartment building. As they stood in front of it, they marveled at how much had happened in such a short time. Had Simon really only moved in a few days ago? 

They walked into the building, and Simon stopped in his tracks. 

“Baz, do you want to get coffee?” 

Baz looked at him blankly. 

“Y’know, what people do when they like each other? Wait, let me try again: Hey, Baz, I think you’re cute. Do you want to go out for coffee sometimes?” 

Baz blushed. 

“You mean, like a date?” 

They had never really had their first date. They had kind of skipped to the crying and the making out. 

“Um… okay?” 

Simon’s face lit up. 

“Cool. How does noon sound?” 

Baz looked at his watch. 

“It’s 11:30 right now, Snow.” 

“So I’ll pick you up at your place at 11:45 then?” 

Baz laughed. 

“Sure.” 

Simon ran down the hall to his flat. Baz walked up the stairs to his. 10 minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Baz sighed and opened it. 

Standing there was Simon, with neater hair, a new button down shirt, and a half-dead flower. 

“You ready?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get coffee, you know, like a date.

They walked together down to the café. It was wedged between a nail salon and a bird feed shop, with plexiglas windows and comfy plush chairs. 

Baz held the flower in one hand and Simon’s palm in the other. There were only a few other people there, so they went right up to the counter. 

It was the same barista from earlier, and she smiled when she saw Simon. 

“Hello again sir. What can I get for you today?” 

He smiled. “Hi…” he looked down at her name tag, “Emma. Let me see…” 

He looked over at the guy that was with him. He was tall and intimidating, with jet-black hair and stormy eyes. He was honestly pretty scary, but Simon seemed comfortable enough around him. 

“Do you want the same thing I got you last time?” 

The man nodded, and Simon looked back at her. 

“One latte, and one of whatever that whipped cream thing you recommended last time was.” 

Oh. This was the one he had talked about. A couple days ago, when Simon had come into the shop, he had a rambled on for a bit about what to get for this person, whether they would prefer black coffee or something fancy. It had seemed very important to him that he get this right. Then, his face had lit up, and he said “Vodka!” and asked for something with “An unreasonable amount of whipped cream.” 

She smiled. There was a story there, and she was glad things had worked out. They were cute together. 

They got their drinks, went over to a corner table, and sat down, sipping at their respective coffees. Baz felt a little awkward, and wasn’t sure how to proceed. 

“So, what do we do now?”

“Baz, haven’t you ever been on a first date?” 

Baz looked down at the table. He hadn’t. 

“Well, you just talk about silly stuff, like where you work and what your hobbies are and whether you like cats or dogs.” 

“Okay,” Baz said, “where do you work?” 

Simon smiled. “Millicent’s Quality Knitwear, on the condition that a certain someone comes and picks up a complimentary ball of yarn.” 

“Oh yeah, how did that go?” 

“Well, they were very… curious.” 

Baz smirked. “Harriet is surprisingly perverted, isn’t she?” 

Simon laughed, and the light hit him in a certain way, and Baz got the sudden urge to kiss him. So, he leaned over the table and did. After a few seconds, Simon pushed him away half-heartedly. 

“Kissing on the first date. Isn’t that a little tacky?” 

Baz laughed. 

“How should I know?” 

Simon sat there, for a moment, then responded. 

“Okay. I’ll let it pass because of ignorance, but don’t let it happen again. You wouldn’t want to scare me off.” 

“Noted.” 

They continued on like that, talking about everything and nothing until their drinks got cold. 

There was still a lot to be done. They had to go to Agatha’s office and work out a restraining order, tell Penny about their relationship, collect that free yarn, build Simon’s IKEA bed, and maybe even go on a few more dates. 

They would do it all, and more, but… after coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to post this fic on here, so, yeah


End file.
